


Good Days and Bad Days

by covacola



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Chronic Pain, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Permanent Injury, Self-Indulgent, Wheelchairs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:27:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28881702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/covacola/pseuds/covacola
Summary: AU where Noctis is still in/out of wheelchairs/crutches and his knee never fully healed.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia & Prompto Argentum & Noctis Lucis Caelum & Ignis Scientia
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	Good Days and Bad Days

**Author's Note:**

> honestly this was purely self indulgent bc my own knees are killing me and I am tired of literally dragging myself out of bed.

His leg never fully healed. He had his good days. In fact, most days he could hide his limp easily enough, like second nature. But on his bad days, it was, well, awful. He could barely put pressure on it at all, his leg simply wouldn't support him. Some days he limped, some days he only needed a cane. Some days he used a crutch, maybe two. But on the bad days, he was wheelchair bound. And even then, it _hurt_. 

You can still have decent leg muscles while being in and out of a wheelchair. Most people didn't expect that. Most people assumed his bad days outweighed his good. It wasn't a muscle issue. It was the joints, the internal bleeding, the swelling. The pain. But he worked hard, worked through it. Regardless how deep those scars went, even if the accident still haunted him, this would not define him. His wounds, his _bad knee_ would not define him. 

Of course, his arms were much stronger. Wheeling himself around, carrying his weight on his crutches, literally dragging himself out of bed some mornings. It was only reasonable. It was good exercise. Maybe he wasn't built like a brick wall like Gladio was, but he could pull himself up easily with either arm. Himself and then some. The strength came in handy. 

Most days, though, he was on his feet. He could swing a greatsword with ease, flick the engine blade around like a butter knife. It was fine. Even when he wasn't at his best, he learned to grit through the pain, will his leg to hold out just a little longer, to go for the knees as he fell. Even in his wheelchair, he could swing a sword or polearm, quickly switching between summoning arms and spinning his wheels. 

But the bad days? Well... The worst of days were spent huddled. In his chair or even in his bed, shaking with pain he couldn't even speak through. It tore the air from his lungs, sent his mind spiralling. Some of those "bad" days, he _could_ get over it. Pull his lips back in a snarl and crawl, _drag_ himself across the floor and push himself up onto the toilet to get the day started. But the worst of days, it hurt so much. It hurt too much to move at all. It'd start with his knee but then it would spread. From knee to ankles and hips, his spine, his shoulders and _everything_ would ache down to the bone marrow. Those were the worst days. 

Ignis still would sometimes simply push him. He knew it wasn't supposed to be demeaning, but sometimes it still felt that way. Just like he knew it wasn't a punishment when Gladio had to carry him back from the training grounds, his leg having suddenly given out. But it still felt like a punishment. Still felt like he was _less_ than he should have been, less than he was _supposed_ to be. 

He was glad the first time Prompto poked fun at it. Oh, sure, it did bother him to hear it sometimes. _Crippled Prince_. But when you're with friends who care, who understand, who _get it_ , sometimes it's nice to joke about your trauma. He was glad when Prompto got comfortable mentioning it. Asking how his leg was, commenting on it in the casual way of marking a hangover after a crazy night. He was glad when it stopped being an elephant in the room. He was glad when it stopped being something to tiptoe around and just became part of "normal" for them. 

He still hates it when Gladio pushes him down, grabs him before he can keep crawling, dragging himself because he refuses to stop just because his leg decides to. Hates it when Gladio picks him up like a rag doll because "he'll hurt himself more." He still hates the look in Ignis's eyes when he sees he's hurting. Still hates when Prompto just _knows_ when to grab an ice or heat pack without being told. He hates it when they feel they need to compensate. But with all of this, he is not so stubborn. He knows that sometimes, he really must relent. 

Sometimes that means getting halfway to the bathroom, laying there panting on the floor until he has the breath to call out. Sometimes that means telling them to slow down, or he needs a break. Sometimes that's whipping out the crutches _before_ the adrenaline runs out. Sometimes that means letting one of them try to massage the ache out. 

And sometimes that means just telling them, "hey, I'm in pain." And that's somehow the hardest. 

But that's what they're here for. What _friends_ are for. To help each other, carry each other when they can't carry themselves. And in a way, he has that wound to be grateful for for the lesson. It's taught him better than he might have ever understood otherwise. This wound, this pain, doesn't make him weak. And neither does asking for help. 

**Author's Note:**

> so yeah I am on the floor writing this but it's ok bc that's what projecting onto comfort characters is for.


End file.
